


You're Only Human

by aelora



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19947241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelora/pseuds/aelora
Summary: Self-loathing, Blaine has been learning, isn’t something that just sits in your mind every second of every day, until you grow used to it.  In some moments, it fades—a distraction, the welcome bliss of sleep, a math test that demands your attention.  In the worst moments, it sneaks back up on you, sharp and unexpected; destroying the false sense of bliss a moment’s respite has lulled you into, leaving you shaken and weak.





	You're Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I wrote way back in Fall 2012, having a need to not only deal with Blaine's cheating on Kurt, but also seeing Cooper be there for his little bro. I think I only posted it on my blog, but I came across it the other day and thought, why not?

When Cooper invites Blaine to come visit him for the weekend, Blaine almost says no. The thought of dealing with Cooper’s antics when all Blaine wants to do right now is be as antisocial as possible and wallow in an entire pool of self-pity is a little more than he feels he can handle. In the end though, he decides to accept the invite and before he knows it, Cooper has a ticket purchased for him, and two weeks later on a Friday night, Blaine lands at LAX.

It’s not until he’s standing there outside the terminal, watching as his big brother catches sight of him and makes his way over, and Blaine can’t hold it in anymore. He breaks down into tears and Cooper just wraps him up in his arms, hugging him tight and saying nothing—and Blaine realizes he made a good decision in coming.  


*****************************

Cooper is surprisingly reticent as he pulls out of the airport onto 405, the top down on his red Mercedes, and The Police blasting from the speakers. He doesn’t ask about Kurt. He doesn’t even bring up his name, and Blaine feels nothing but relief. His shoulders relax slowly as Cooper asks about his classes, makes a few comments about homework being the biggest killer of the creative mind, and then asks if “That charming older woman with the sharp mouth and penchant for track suits has mentioned me?” Blaine chokes slightly at the question, but it makes him smile, and he just shakes his head in response as Cooper hums in disappointment.

They stop for sushi before heading to Cooper’s place in Santa Monica. Cooper keeps up a steady stream of conversation, and Blaine doesn’t even mind it when the server stops by and Cooper orders his sake with a terrible German accent. He orders a diet Coke when asked, and finds himself actually paying attention as Cooper describes—with vivid detail—his last five auditions. 

Over a bowl of edamame, Blaine tells Cooper the glee club is going to be performing _Grease_ , and allows his brother to take over the conversation once more as he describes his own performance as Danny his junior year in high school. Blaine barely remembers it, other than his brother walking around in a leather jacket twenty-four hours a day (even over his pajamas), and carrying a comb in the back of his pocket that he would pull out even during dinner to slide through his hair. Mom would tell him to put it away, but Cooper would argue that it was all part of the acting process—he couldn’t just _pretend_ to be Danny Zuko. He had to _be_ Danny Zuko.

“You need a leather jacket,” Cooper says as he picks up his chopsticks and points them in Blaine’s direction. “We’ll get you one tomorrow. I don’t want to give mine up.”

Blaine lets out a breath, wondering what kind of lecture he’s going to get before he announces, “I don’t really think I want to audition. I mean, it’s just, I’ve been,” he presses his hands together in front of him as he searches for the right excuse, why he’s been thinking about this ever since Mr. Schuester brought the musical up, why he has absolutely no desire to be on stage right now, and says, “I think I need a break. To plan for college, and stuff.”

Glancing up, Blaine watches the most remarkable thing happen. Cooper frowns, opens his mouth to respond, and then promptly closes it. It looks painful, if Blaine’s being entirely honest with what he knows about his brother, as Cooper swallows, nods, and focuses every bit of attention on the sushi menu in front of him. He starts listing off every piece of sashimi and every roll printed on the cheap plastic menu, and Blaine fights back the (all-too-familiar lately) tightening in the back of his throat.

The sushi is flavorless and feels as if each piece is attempting to lodge in his throat as Blaine eats, but he forces himself to do it because Cooper is being generous, and all he’d eaten earlier that day was a Pop Tart before heading to school. His brother talks about everything they can do the next two days, but nothing stands out as overly exciting, so Blaine just nods along, murmuring noncommittally that whatever Cooper wants to do is okay with him. Cooper grows silent after that; and the silence until they pay their check and leave is uncomfortable in an entirely new way from what Blaine is used to experiencing around his brother.  
  


***********************************

  
Blaine allows himself to enjoy the drive to Cooper’s place. He closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest, and Cooper is pointing out various landmarks: “ _I met Amy Adams there_ ”, “ _And that is where I met Leo—he was kind of dick. I think the lack of awards is getting to him_ ”, “ _That’s where I took the Progressive Insurance chick for coffee_ ”. 

But Blaine only listens with half an ear, the other focused on The Church as they sing about what it’s like “Under the Milky Way”. It’s thanks to Cooper that Blaine has grown up with the knowledge and love of older music. He loves all music, quite honestly, but while growing up, his home had been filled with sounds of the ‘70’s and ‘80’s between his parents and brother, and listening to current Top 40 is still a bit of an adventure for Blaine.

“ _Wish I knew what you were looking for_ ,” Blaine sings softly, and beside him, Cooper joins in, “ _Might have known what you would find._ ”

Cooper’s house is a little two bedroom Ranch along the Pacific Palisades, with a ten meter walk to the beach. He shares it with his longtime roommate since coming to Los Angeles, Amy—stage name Vulvita-- a busty, redheaded “adult entertainment” star, who has always felt a lot like a doting aunt to Blaine, even though she’s a little younger than Cooper, and spends most of her time around him pinching his ass. 

It’s homey—a lot more than his home back in Ohio—with mismatched furniture, stark white carpeting and walls hung with a conglomeration of sea paraphernalia and movie posters. Neither Cooper nor Amy are very good housekeepers, but Blaine doesn’t mind as he finds a small corner to set his bag down beside the futon in the front room. The wall behind him is a floor to ceiling window, looking out onto a tiny garden, mostly overgrown with weeds, but beyond that it’s nothing but beach and ocean, and for the longest time Blaine just sits there staring, and tries not to think.

Amy gets home as the sun is setting, and she plops down on the futon beside Blaine, wrapping him in a big hug, the scent of her _Love’s Baby Soft_ perfume overwhelming his senses for a moment. He has no idea if Cooper told her why he’s visiting for the weekend, but he figures she must know when she pulls back and cups his face, and her expression is just a little too understanding as she gazes at him.

“Even the best of us make mistakes, Bee.”

Blaine feels his stomach twist into knots at her words. “And what about those of us who aren’t the best?”

“Oh, sweetie.” She pulls him close and presses her cheek to his, whispering in his ear, “You’re one of the sweetest boys I’ve ever met, Blaine Anderson. If he can’t see past one bad thing to all the good you have in you, then he’s just not worth it.”

Blaine doesn’t want to hear platitudes and assurances for committing one of the worst things he’s ever done in his life. He forces a small smile though, knowing her perspective on the situation is nothing like his own, and she presses a kiss to his forehead before disappearing to change into her swimsuit to spend the evening on the beach.

It takes an encouraging swat on the backside of his head from Cooper before Blaine finally agrees to change into his swim trunks, sweatshirt slung over his shoulder for the chilly sea air as he follows his brother and Amy out to the beach. The sun is sinking down behind the vast blue of the Pacific, and it’s already a little chilly along the shoreline. Different from cold in the Midwest, where it seeps and settles over you slowly, wrapping you in a blanket of cold. Here, it’s wet and shocking at first, pushed by a breeze that moves right through you, forcing you to grow used to it until you barely even notice.

Blaine sinks down onto the sand close to the water—where the sand is still dry and warm, but were he to stretch his legs, his toes would touch the incoming tide. Not far away from him, Amy squeals as Cooper chases after her, trying to toss her out into the surf. They’re good friends, _best_ friends, and Blaine feels an overwhelming horrible ache move through him because he no longer _has_ a best friend. He broke his best friend’s trust in the most awful way imaginable, destroyed something that he’ll never find again, and every single time that realization hits him, Blaine wonders how it is that he’s still breathing.

Twice now, he’s wished that he wasn’t. 

************************************

Blaine wakes to too much sunlight and the sound of seagulls in what appears to be a fairly intense argument over fish. He doesn’t know how long he’s slept; after coming in from the beach last night, he’d showered and then been subjected to three hours worth of Cooper’s audition tapes. Amy had disappeared to bed before them because she had an early morning shoot, and Cooper had lingered on the futon next to Blaine, finally switching away from his auditions to late night TV, which ended up including no less than seven Free Credit Rating Today Dot Com commercials. Blaine realizes as he’s laying there that the jingle is still stuck in his head.

 _Slash savinnnnggggssss_!

Hearing the crash of something that sounds like a pan, followed by Cooper cussing, Blaine stretches beneath the blankets and blinks his eyes open. He stares over at the open sliding glass door across from him, where a breeze wafts in from the beach, carrying with it the scent of salt and sand and suntan lotion. Flipping onto his back, Blaine fluffs a pillow up behind his head, gazing across the room to the tiny kitchen where Cooper appears to be hopping around on one foot, kitchen towel draped over one bare-shoulder.

“I hope you’re not attempting to make breakfast,” Blaine comments, yawning at the end of his remark, and reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Attempting, yes.”

“You can’t cook, Coop.” Blaine sits up, the blankets falling over his lap, and he rests an elbow against his knee, chin in hand. “This was established when I was about three and you were babysitting me. You tried to make grilled cheese with the iron.”

“Hey! That was a pretty good attempt, and you know it,” Cooper says, pointing a finger in his direction.

Blaine’s mouth twitches slightly, as if threatening to smile. “Maybe if you’d left out the starch.”

“I hate floppy grilled cheese.” Cooper sighs and yanks the pan from the stove, tossing it into the sink. He leans across the breakfast bar, eyeing Blaine. “Wanna grab breakfast out?”

“Are you buying?”

“I didn’t realize this trip was going to turn into my little brother mooching off of me, but yes. If I must.”

Blaine snorts. “I’ll buy if it means not risking my life with your cooking.”  
  


********************************* 

  
Cooper drives them to Maison Giraud along Sunset, and Blaine’s hunger withers the longer he’s awake, the longer he has time to think, and when he attempts to get away with just ordering some coffee, Cooper orders for them both. French toast, smoked salmon, a fruit and berry plate. All in a French accent, of course. Blaine doesn’t even bother commenting on it because now he thinks his brother is doing it on purpose. While Blaine appreciates his attempts-- _he really does_ \--the questions are still hanging between them, and he keeps waiting for Coop to ask, but he doesn’t, and the anticipation makes it stressful. 

Blaine plays with his food while Cooper charms their server—she’s cute with a blonde bob and turned up nose, and she has no idea who Cooper Anderson is, but she’s obviously heard the “I’m an actor” spiel enough to roll her eyes playfully before handing over her phone number. Their obvious flirtation makes Blaine uncomfortable; forces him to remember things he’s constantly trying to push to the back of his mind, and he wants to believe that maybe Cooper notices when he suddenly asks for the check and they’re back in the car not long after.

They have nothing specific planned to do, and Blaine offers no ideas when asked. What he really wants is to go back to the beach and bury his head in the sand. There’s something about the too bright sun and blue sky here in California that makes his thoughts seem darker, makes what he did in a brief pique of self-pity stand out in stark contrast like a festering sore in the midst of flawless, pale skin. The longer they’re in the car with the top rolled down and Cooper singing along with the Go-Go’s, the more Blaine’s stomach churns, and the urge to tear at his own skin grows.

Blaine doesn’t even realize the car has stopped until he feels Coop’s hand on his arm, and he startles slightly before looking over at his brother, breath painful in his chest. Cooper’s frowning as he gives Blaine’s arm a light squeeze.

“You okay, squirt?”

 _No_. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry. Umm.” Blaine licks his lips and glances over the car door. “Where are we?”

“The Grove. Come on.” Cooper pushes at Blaine’s shoulder gently before opening the driver’s side door to climb out. “I told you we’re getting you a leather jacket. Also, I know how much you love shopping, and I doubt the ‘rents sent you out here without some spending money. So let’s get to it.”

“I don’t _need_ a leather jacket,” Blaine mutters, but climbs out of the car to follow Cooper through the parking garage and into the outdoor shopping mall.

Shopping turns out to be one of Cooper’s worst ideas—in a long line of bad ideas—fairly quickly. It’s impossible for Blaine not to think about Kurt here. Every shop he sees, every Kardashian wannabe who walks past them, the rustle of shopping bags, the scent of cologne wafting out of the department stores—all of it reminds him of Kurt. He imagines them coming here together, and then realizes it isn’t going to happen. He passes a particularly comically dressed mannequin in a shop window, and almost takes a picture to send to Kurt, when he realizes it wouldn’t be welcome. The more they walk, the worse Blaine feels. His shoulders drop and he sinks into himself, barely murmuring his responses when Cooper points out something of interest or asks him if he wants to get a snack.

Self-loathing, Blaine has been learning, isn’t something that just sits in your mind every second of every day, until you grow used to it. In some moments, it fades—a distraction, the welcome bliss of sleep, a math test that demands your attention. In the worst moments, it sneaks back up on you, sharp and unexpected; destroying the false sense of bliss a moment’s respite has lulled you into, leaving you shaken and weak. Blaine’s slowly learning that he doesn’t know which is worse—fooling himself into believing he’s fine, _everything’s fine, he’ll be fine_ , or realizing with an utter hopelessness that nothing is fine, he’ll never be fine again, _he hates himself, hates himself, hates_ —

“Why don’t we go see a movie?”

The heavy weight of Cooper’s hand on his shoulder snaps Blaine from his spiral— _maybe just in time_ , Blaine thinks—and though a movie doesn’t sound much more promising, he nods in agreement. As Cooper leads him down the escalator toward the theater, Blaine finds himself wondering just when his brother—King of both Obliviousness and Selfishness—learned to read him so well. Or to even care.

They argue when they go to buy tickets because Cooper wants to see _Pitch Perfect_ —pretty much the last movie on Blaine’s list because no, he doesn’t want to see anything to do with glee clubs or a Capella groups—and Cooper throws his hands in the air, wondering just what he’s supposed to do, and Blaine just needs to get the fuck over it. Suppressing the desire— _and oh god, it’s a strong one_ —to scream at his brother like the child he suddenly feels, Blaine stomps away instead, exiting the theater to wait outside. He doesn’t even care if Cooper goes to the movie without him. He’ll just sit out there and wait, and spend the entire time convincing himself not to send a needy, desperate text to the last person on earth who wants to hear from him.

Blaine sits on a bench next to the fountain, pulling out his phone and staring down at it. Every morning, he checks it first thing. He pulls it out randomly at school, hoping. _Always hoping_. The silence leaves him on tenterhooks because he doesn’t know—he doesn’t know if they’re together, if they’re apart. He doesn’t know if Kurt hates him, or maybe still loves him. He thinks yelling would be easier—if Kurt would just call him and tell him what a disgusting human being he thinks Blaine is, and that he never wants to see him again, and then maybe Blaine could begin the process of forgetting. Of moving forward.

(Except he knows that’s a lie; there is no forgetting Kurt, and there is no moving forward.)

He feels stuck, like quicksand—if he makes the wrong move, he’ll sink too quickly and die. So he just has to wait. Wait and hope someone will reach for him soon, and pull him out.

Cooper joins him a few minutes later, sitting quietly beside him and saying nothing at first.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine murmurs after a moment, and there’s something about apologizing to his brother that has always annoyed him in a stupid, childish way. “You’re probably regretting your invite to visit.”

“I would never regret getting a chance to spend time with my little brother,” Cooper disagrees, reaching over to wrap an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and pull him close in a brief squeeze. “I’ve just been going about this all wrong. Come on. I have an idea.” 

Blaine glances up at Cooper warily as he jumps to his feet. “And that is…?”

“We’re gonna get you,” he says, with an emphatic point, “rip-roaring drunk.”

“I… don’t think that’s such a great idea.”

“It is a great idea because I came up with it.” Cooper reaches out, grasping Blaine by the arm to haul him to his feet. “The way I see it, you either get busy livin’, or get busy dyin’!”

Blaine stares at him, blinking. “Did… did you just quote _Shawshank Redemption_ at me?”

Cooper grins broadly and nods. “There’s a lot more where that came from, Blainey!”   
  


****************************

  


Cooper spends the next two hours on the phone as they drive around town purchasing supplies. Apparently, he plans on having a beach party, and once he calls to let Amy knows, it steamrolls from there. Blaine attempts to act appropriately excited over it, but he really isn’t. Not when Cooper spends an ungodly amount of money on alcohol. Not when he purchases giant marshmallows that they can roast over a bonfire. Not when he promises a night of the Beach Boys, the Drifters, the Four Tops and the Temptations. And especially not when he says there will be karaoke. 

Blaine doesn’t want to sing. He has no desire to sing. And not even the temptation to have a Jackie Wilson sing off with his brother is going to change that.

By the time they return to the beach house, Blaine’s mood is swinging quickly back to maudlin. He excuses himself as Amy and Cooper are juggling time between making phone calls to friends and filling bowls with snacks. There’s fierce whispering behind him as he slips out the side door, and he swears he can hear someone get slapped, and Cooper’s corresponding “Ow!” 

There are a lot more people on the beach this afternoon than last night. Blaine doesn’t wander out very far. Only a few yards onto the sand before he sits down, tugging off his boat shoes and setting them neatly on his left before pulling his knees up to his chest and dropping his forehead down to rest on them. He tries not to think; he focuses on the sound of the waves crashing into the shore and children screaming somewhere down the beach. 

Out of everything he’s been feeling, it’s how much he misses Kurt that Blaine can’t seem to shake. He’d been so stupid before, thinking that was the worst he could feel. That Kurt was neglecting him; that he’d moved on. It had been nothing like this because there’d always been the promise of a phone call to come, a text—and Blaine threw that all away for the attention of a stranger. If he’d only waited, if he’d only had a little faith and trust in Kurt’s love for him, Kurt would still be a part of his life—even part-time Kurt is better than no Kurt at all.

“Amy just told me that _Hakuna Matata_ is not an appropriate inspirational quote. But then, she’s the same woman who doesn’t agree that “Don’t Worry Be Happy” is one of the greatest songs ever written, so her opinion doesn’t count for much.”

Blaine turns his head slightly, peering over his knee to watch as Cooper drops down onto the sand at his right, resting on his hip and elbow as he gets comfortable. Blaine knows it’s coming, but his chest still twists up tightly when Cooper asks:

“You ready to talk?”

Something that neither seems to understand as a confirmation or denial comes from the back of Blaine’s throat in response. 

Cooper frowns. “The way I see it, you get it all out now, and then drink so much alcohol tonight that you go numb. I’ll carry you back to the house, and you can sleep late tomorrow before your flight.”

“Is this your cure-all?”

“Nah.” Cooper shakes his head and flashes Blaine a charming smile. “I just wanna see my baby brother drunk.”

Blaine finds a small smile at his teasing, but realizes he doesn’t know where to begin. Now that he’s here, with someone willing to listen, Blaine doesn’t even know what to say. How to say it? There’s too much inside, and maybe not enough, and he wishes that Cooper could just peer inside his brain to see it all so he didn’t have to try and form words.

He’s always been horrible at forming words. But now, it seems so much more difficult because none of the words make sense.

“You cheated on Kurt.”

It’s the first time Blaine’s heard it said so bluntly out loud. But there it is—everything spelled out in perfect detail with only four words. Sixteen letters. 

Blaine fights down the urge to vomit as he whispers, “Yes.”

“And I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

Blaine lifts his head and stares at Cooper like he’s speaking another language. “Would you?”

Cooper shrugs and rolls onto his back, tucking his arms behind his head. “I’ve been cheated on by two… no, three girlfriends. I’ve cheated on a few myself. All varying degrees, of course. Sex, kissing, phone sex, whatever. There’s been a casting couch involved here and there… not that _that_ makes it any easier.”

Blaine is horrified. “Cooper! That’s—“

His brother holds up a hand to silence him. “I wasn’t in love with any of them. Nor them, me.”

The way Cooper is looking at him now makes Blaine really wish he were sitting in quicksand. He looks away because it’s maybe the first time he’s ever seen his brother actually look disappointed in him—honestly and truly disappointed.

“I gotta tell ya, squirt, the last time I was out there, and saw the two of you together, I was a little jealous. Not that I’m looking to be tied down or anything but still. Being in love looks good on you.” Cooper pauses, and Blaine pressed his eyes into his knees, pushing his eyeballs into their sockets so hard he sees stars. “It’s obvious you still love him. So why’d you do it?”

“Does it matter?” Blaine mumbles into the cotton of his capris. “There’s no excuse.”

“No, there’s no excuse,” Cooper agrees, reaching over to poke at Blaine’s hip with his finger. “But there’s usually a reason. A spark. A catalyst. A need. Desire. Whatever. So what was it for you? I know you, Blainey. Or, at least I think I do. I _like_ to think I do. And whatever happened doesn’t seem like you at all.”

This is it. His chance to talk. To tell someone how he’s feeling; what he’s feeling But Blaine still hesitates because it’s Cooper. They’ve never really talked about things like this before. The deepest they’d ever gotten was last year about their own relationship, and why Blaine had felt the need to call him two weeks ago and blurt out that he cheated, he’s not certain. Maybe he’s been clinging to the idea that they’re friends now, and he needs that.

It feels like he has so few left.

Turning his head to the right, Blaine rests his cheek against his knee and stares at his brother. Cooper is staring back, waiting, and looking oddly concerned. Blaine wonders if it’s because Cooper’s no more certain that he’s going to talk to him than Blaine. 

“Was he cute?” Cooper prompts, forcing a smile like he’s trying to be funny.

Blaine swallows. “It… it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t—“ He draws in a breath and tries again because actually admitting this—allowing himself to realize what he’d done—it hurts. “We met through a mutual friend on Facebook. He invited me over and—“

“Whoa whoa whoa.” Cooper sits up, mouth gaping slightly as he stared at Blaine. “Do you mean to tell me, Blaine Devon Anderson, you slept with some guy you had never even met? Shit, little bro, I hope you were at least safe about it!”

Blaine feels his face flush from both shame and embarrassment, and he drops his gaze to the sand between them. “We… we didn’t do… I mean anything that would have required safety… like that.”

And the entire conversation is uncomfortable because Blaine’s never talked to Cooper about sex. Sure, when he was little, Cooper loved to tell him about his own sexual experiences—mostly, Blaine thinks, to shock him and send him screaming to his mother about icky sex things seven year old boys don’t really want to hear about. 

“But yes, I—I hadn’t met him until that… then.”

Cooper grows silent beside him, and everything hurts a little worse because Blaine feels certain he’s being judged. And rightly so. He turns his head to press his face into his knees again, pushing painfully against his eyes in the hope of staving back the tears already burning them. Seconds later, he feels Cooper’s hand on his back, rubbing over it soothingly, and all the comforting touch does is force the tears loose.

“I thought I was losing him—that I’d lost him,” Blaine explains through his tears, voice muffled against his legs. “He had New York and this amazing job and he—he didn’t need me anymore. He didn’t seem to care—about my life, about me, about us. And I just, I felt so alone, Coop. All I wanted to hear was _I love you_ and _I’m here for you_ and I…I just hurt so _bad_ . I wanted to feel wanted again, and—“ Blaine gasps as a particularly painful sob escapes him. “It was _horrible_. It wasn’t Kurt and I felt so disgusted with myself, and I just wanted him there and he wasn’t, and I just wanted to erase what I’d done so I went to New York—mom and dad were so mad—but I didn’t care. I had to see him. Even if he didn’t want me there I just needed to erase—“

Drawing a deep breath to quell the tears long enough to keep talking, Blaine lifts his head to look at Cooper. “I was wrong. I knew it the moment Kurt answered the door. The way he looked at me, Coop—his eyes and smile just lit up. He still loves…” He pauses and swallows hard, “ _loved_ me. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t even make it through the night. He knew something was wrong and I told him and—he hasn’t spoken to me since.” 

Blaine takes another gulp of air and closes his eyes. “I was wrong. I was _so_ wrong. I let my stupid fears get the best of me and I’ve ruined _everything_ , Coop. I’ve lost the love of my life, and I’ll never feel that way again. Not with anyone. No one will ever look at me like Kurt did. No one will ever love me like that, and I can’t—it hurts _so bad_ , Coop. I just want to _stop hurting_!”

Blaine’s sobbing then, the pain in his chest making it hard to breathe as he feels Cooper pull him into his arms and hold him close. The comfort makes it worse. Crying alone in his room is what Blaine feels he deserves—silence, condemnation, isolation. He only did this to himself. But feeling his brother hold him, rub his back soothingly, and tell him stupid, untrue things like “ _It’s going to be okay_ ” and “ _Don’t give up hope_ ” and “ _You’re worthy of love, Blainey—stop that_ ” just makes it hurt more. He doesn’t deserve comfort. He doesn’t deserve to be told it’s going to be alright. Everyone should hate him. The way Kurt obviously hates him. 

The way he hates himself.

When his tears finally subside, Cooper forces him to sit up and meet his gaze, though it’s hard for Blaine not to look away. “You made a _mistake_ , squirt. A pretty big one, but a mistake all the same. That doesn’t make you a bad person, and it sure as hell doesn’t make you unworthy of forgiveness or love. Now, maybe I’m kinda biased because you’re my little brother,” he says with a grin as he reaches up to wipe some of Blaine’s tears away, “but you’re pretty high up on my list of awesome people, who are capable of some pretty awesome things, and if Kurt can’t eventually come back to seeing that… Well, I hate to say it, but maybe you’re both better off.”

Blaine feels like crying all over again. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Maybe not now. No one said I was a psychotherapist, although I did audition for a role a couple months back—“

“Coop.”

Cooper’s mouth snaps shut for a moment, as if he’s only just realized he’d veered off-topic. “Look, little brother, when I was cheated on by girlfriends I didn’t necessarily love, it hurt. I can’t imagine what Kurt must be feeling right now. But the thing is I could easily write them off once I got over it. I didn’t particularly need them in my life. Kurt loves you—no, don’t shake your head at me. I can’t imagine your confession instantly made him stop loving you. It’s kind of depressing to even think that love would work like that, you know? A wise man once said ‘ _Reveal to them everything there is to know about you and let the chips fall where they may_!’”

Blaine sighs. “That’s from _Meet Joe Black_.”

“Doesn’t make it not wise!” Cooper argues, grinning as he reaches up to ruffle Blaine’s hair before pulling his hand back and pursing his lips. “You really need to cut back on the hair gel.”

Somewhere inside of him, Blaine feels a brief laugh bubble up. He shakes his head as he rubs his palms over his eyes to dry them. “You were doing so well at the whole pep talk thing.”

“I know, right?” Cooper agrees proudly. “Now if only I could find a role about an older brother helping his little brother get over the devastating end of true love—“ 

“ _Jesus_ , Coop.”

“I’m kidding!” Cooper slips his arm across Blaine’s shoulders and pulls him in for another hug. “It’s gonna be alright, Blainey. You know how I know? _Because life’s like a movie—just write your own ending_! And don’t give me that look. You know the Muppets were right.”

Blaine does laugh this time as Cooper shoves him back into the sand before climbing to his feet. 

“Come on. You’ve had your emotional breakdown. Now it’s time to get drunk.”  
  


*********************************

Blaine holds off on getting drunk, at first. 

The beach party appears to be a huge success. Between Cooper and Amy, there are at least fifty guests, all showing up with coolers of alcohol and bags of chips. There’s music and dancing, and everyone there in some form works for the entertainment industry—D list actors, backup dancers, struggling singers, two Cirque du Soleil performers and a mime. The deepest moment of the night comes while Blaine is sitting with the mime in companionable silence, gazing into the bonfire when the mime suddenly draws a box around him. Blaine just nods in agreement before opening his first can of beer.

When the karaoke starts up, Blaine shifts toward the edge of the group, hiding because the last thing he wants or needs is his brother goading him into a duet. It doesn’t quite happen that way though, when Cooper suddenly asks for everyone’s attention.

“So this first song I’m going to sing tonight goes out to my little brother, Blaine. That’s him hiding in the shadows over there, pretending like he actually has the ability to go unnoticed. Hey, Blainey! You’re an Anderson—people _always_ notice us!”

Blaine rolls his eyes, face flushing as people laugh and look over at him.

“Anyway, he’s kind of been having a rough time of it recently, so I thought the best lesson I could possibly give him comes from one of the greatest sages of our time—ladies and gentleman, Mr. William Joel.”

When the music starts up, Blaine thinks _I should have known_ , and he tries to escape, but Amy catches him and pushes him into the ring of partiers to where his brother is pointing at him, and singing, and making ridiculous faces as he says all of the things he tried to say earlier that evening. Only this time, it’s with music instead of just words, and Blaine gets that. 

More than anything else, he gets this.

“ _You better believe there will be times in your life_   
_When you'll be feeling like a stumbling fool_   
_So take it from me you'll learn more from you accidents_   
_Than anything you could ever learn at school_   
  
_Don't forget your second wind_   
_Sooner or later you'll get your second wind_   
_It's not always easy to be living in this world of pain_   
_You're gonna be crashing into stone walls again and again_ _  
_It's alright, it's alright.”

Blaine laughs as his brother dances over to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder and holding up a fist when he talks about being a boxer in a title fight, and walking into that ring all alone. Two beers and he’s feeling a little fuzzy, and his brother is ridiculous, and Blaine thinks how he wouldn’t really trade him for anything right then.

“ _You're not the only one who's made mistakes_ _  
_ _But they're the only things that you can truly call your own_.”

Cooper dances away from him, and soon everyone is singing along because it’s Billy Joel, and who doesn’t know this song? 

Blaine smiles as Amy sits beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist as she sings, and she’s really off-pitch but having fun, and Blaine knows he’s miles away from forgiving himself, and even further from deserving that forgiveness from the person he hurt the most. Still, he feels something unexpected crack open and expand inside of him when he joins in.

“ _You probably don't want to hear advice from someone else_   
_But I wouldn't be telling you if I hadn't been there myself_   
_It's alright, it's alright_   
_Sometimes that's all it takes_   
_We're only human_   
_We're supposed to make mistakes_   
_But I survived all those long lonely days_   
_When it seemed I did not have a friend_   
_Cause all I needed was a little faith_ _  
_So I could catch my breath and face the world again.”

  


**************************************

Blaine has a hangover. 

The worst ever in the history of hangovers for all of humankind, actually.

Luckily, he’s pretty fast, so it only takes seconds for him after he wakes up to make it from the futon to the bathroom down the hall, where he vomits not only everything consumed the night before, but he’s pretty certain his stomach lining, a lung and his spleen are somewhere in the toilet as well.

By the time he’s prone and listless, cheek pressed against the cool tile floor, Blaine finds himself wanting to seek out that primitive man from long ago, who first decided “Hey! Let’s make alcohol!” and punch him in the face. He groans when he feels something poke him in the hip, and forces his eyes open— _Too bright! Too bright!_ —to find a half-dressed Cooper looking down at him in amusement.

“You alive?” Cooper asks, toeing his hip again. “You were so fucking drunk, Blainey.”

“Mmrfphrmsn.” Blaine’s pretty certain he just told Cooper to go fuck himself, but he doubts his brother caught the gist of it.

Cooper laughs. Okay, so maybe he did. “Here. Water. Aspirin. I probably should have had you hydrate last night. Oh well.”

The idea of sitting up doesn’t provide Blaine with any kind of warm fuzzies. Not when he and gravity have made a pact to stay right where he is currently resting. He protests with more unintelligible words as Cooper squats beside him and forces him into an upright position, mostly leaning back against the cabinet.

“Drink,” he says, thrusting the bottle of water into his hand, waiting for Blaine’s first sip before handing over the pills.

The water feels cool and good—his mouth far too warm and the nasty taste lingering there makes Blaine want to throw up all over again. “Mrgkehoo.”

“You’re welcome.” Cooper gets comfortable beside him, and Blaine groans, knowing that he’s about to hear the details of the night before.

Blaine remembers Cooper singing to him. And he remembers the mime who described his life story in two seconds. He also remembers singing “The Love I Lost”, and there might have been tears, which would have explained the bottle of Whipped Cream Vodka someone handed to him. He doesn’t remember… well, really anything after that.

“Yeah, so, you’re a little bit ridiculous when drunk,” Cooper begins, patting Blaine on the leg. “Thank god _I_ was there.”

“Mph…” Blaine takes another sip of water, swallows and tries again. “Wha… what’d I do?”

“You started singing emo music, Blaine,” Cooper says, his voice tinged with sorrow. “ _Emo music_. Like, that shit sucks, and here you were, hogging the goddamn spotlight with emo music. I’ve never been so embarrassed.” 

Blaine blinks, eyes burning and feeling like they’re too large in their sockets. There might also be sandpaper hidden somewhere behind his lids. “… What’d I sing?”

“Well, you started out okay. Carole King’s “It’s Too Late”… which actually brought down the party in a big way. I think you owe some of my guests’ handwritten notes of apology.” Cooper pauses to force Blaine to take another sip of water. “But then you went off the deep end.” Cooper holds his gaze, looking very upset with him. “You sang Dashboard Confessional.”

Honestly, Blaine is not entirely certain he knows any of their songs. He struggles to think, but it hurts his head. “What song?”

“I had to look it up—“If You Can’t Let It Be, Might as Well Make it Bleed”,” Cooper responds, shaking his head. “The entire party went downhill from there. My buddy Bill tried to drown himself in the surf—not really your fault, he’d had a lot to drink and he lost his PA job after sleeping with the director’s wife last week. _But emo music never helps anything, Blaine_. Just remember that. Luckily, you didn’t last too much longer after that. I carried you back here after you passed out face first into Amy’s boobs.”

“… I didn’t.”

“Oh, yeah. You did.” He pauses. “She was a tad bit disappointed, actually. I think she wants to be your Mrs. Robinson.”

Blaine feels like crawling into the toilet. “CanIgobacktosleep?”

Cooper chuckles and reaches up to rub at the back of Blaine’s head. “Yeah. You’ve got a few more hours before we need to head to the airport.”

It takes his brother to help him back to the futon, where Blaine passes out almost instantly, and dreams of the mime singing Dashboard Confessional:

“ _Your wires are frayed, can't fire right_ _  
_ _You look better when out of sight_

 _…no one is waiting for you_ .”  
  


************************************

  


Blaine is silent the majority of the drive to the airport. He feels like he owes Cooper something, but he’s not certain what. The trip has been too short, which is something he never quite expected. A part of him doesn’t want to leave; and a part of him is too raw and vulnerable beneath the bright blue California sky to want to stay.

Cooper keeps up a steady stream of conversation, telling him a little more about last night, though this time there’s more praise than condemnation—sure, Blaine gave in and sang emo music, but he did it _well_. Everyone was impressed. Cooper sounds pleased that Blaine seems to have “given into it” as he puts it.

“So you got plenty to keep you occupied when you get back home?” His brother asks as he takes the exit to LAX.

“I guess.” Blaine shrugs and thinks of the musical again and how last year he would have jumped at the chance to play Danny Zuko. Now, he just isn’t sure it’s what he needs at the moment.

“Gonna be filling out those college applications, huh?” Cooper wrinkles his nose. “I know the ‘rents really want to see one of their boys go to college, but I still say it’s a waste of time.”

“Maybe.” Blaine drops his gaze and picks at a piece of lint on his thigh. “I need to figure out where I want to apply and stuff.”

There’s a momentary silence, and then, “Thought you were going to apply to that fancy school in New York?”

Blaine shrugs and looks out over the car door, staring at the approaching terminals. “New York’s—“ He doesn’t finish because he’s not sure what to say. Instead, he says, “Maybe I’ll apply to a few places out here.”

Cooper pulls the car up alongside the curb and puts it into park before shifting in the seat to face him. “Blaine, look at me.” 

He does. Cooper has that look again that Blaine has seen a lot on this trip. Concerned and serious in a way Blaine isn’t used to seeing, and it’s disconcerting.

“Don’t you dare screw up your future over this--”

“Coop—“

“I’m not done. Look, I’d love to have you out here. No joke. The Anderson brothers take on Hollywood! Hell, we might even get some road show multiple movie deal—the brotherly equivalent of Bing Crosby and Bob Hope.” Cooper grins at his own words for a moment before apparently realizing he has a point to make. 

“But you’ve never really shown the slightest indication that you want to come to LA. Look, Blainey, if that’s what you want, to come out here and shack up with me and Amy, spend your mornings surfing, your days auditioning and your nights waiting tables? I’m all for it. But only if it’s _your_ choice. I know you have this weird ass propensity to want to make people happy—which you obviously got from mom—but if there were ever a time you need to think about yourself, it’s when it comes to your future. Don’t you _dare_ change your plans for New York just because you think Kurt may not want you there. Kapeesh?”

Blaine stares at Cooper for a long, silent moment before finding a small smile. “Wow, Coop. You were totally serious, and you didn’t even point.” Blaine doesn’t duck in time to avoid the slap upside the back of his head.

“Brat.” Cooper grins briefly before his expression grows serious again. “Promise me?”

Honestly, it’s a topic Blaine doesn’t even want to think about right now, but he knows he can’t escape it, even while everything seems in limbo—his relationship, his happiness, his life. It all feels like he’s teetering on the edge of something, and has absolutely no idea which side will be the safest place to land.

And maybe that’s the point. He won’t know until he lets himself fall.

“I promise,” he finally says with a nod. “I’ll just… apply here and there, and anywhere else. And I’ll make my decision later.”

“Thatta boy!” Cooper smiles and gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Now, come here and give your big brother the hug he deserves. I totally made it through that conversation without a single movie quote!”

Blaine laughs as he allows himself to be pulled into Cooper’s hug, closing his eyes and enjoying the embrace. And he realizes that it's one of those moments—the distraction from the pain of his own self-loathing. _He’s fine, everything’s fine, he’ll be fine_.

Except this time, he’s a little closer to beginning to believe it.

~fin~


End file.
